


and all the mirrors vanish from my mind

by skvadern



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Interspecies Sex, Morning After, Morning Sex, Non-Human Genitalia, Other, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27817756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skvadern/pseuds/skvadern
Summary: There’s nothing he has to do, right now. Unusual, and nice.The morning after the crew's arrival at Svalbard, Skraak evaluates his relationship with Hamid.
Relationships: Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan/Skraak
Comments: 11
Kudos: 49





	and all the mirrors vanish from my mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [platoapproved](https://archiveofourown.org/users/platoapproved/gifts).



> rose, my darling, thank u for persuading me to finally throw my hat in the koboldfucking ring. i hope you love this.   
> i basically just use the word cock to refer to hamid's business. skraak is using he/they pronouns.  
> title from youre mine by lola marsh

The first thing Skraak notices is that he’s _warm_. Properly all-through warm, and for a few drowsy moments he’s certain that he’s back in the Peaceful Cavern, steamy and mineral and surrounded on all sides by the soft susurration of sleeping breaths.

But no, the stone smell here is an entirely different beast, mixed in with something plant-like and complex. His throat is beginning to itch from the aggressively dry air, and he can only hear one other set of lungs. The warmth is a different quality, and though it’s soaked deep into his bones, Skraak can tell that the source is the soft, solid body he’s curled up against; the scales on his front and right arm are practically melting.

He slits his eyes open, and at first all he sees is darkness. Then the slight tickling on his snout resolves itself into strands of dark fur, the source of the layered plant-smell. At some point, Skraak had stuck his face in it.

Moving slowly, he eases his head back. The impossibly soft bundle of halfling stirs slightly, pressing back into him, but doesn’t wake.

Quietly, in the semi-dark, he searches for any trace of regret. It’s important to figure that sort of thing out as soon as possible; the world he lives in is already so complicated, and he’s responsible for so much. He can’t afford another complication.

He’s almost surprised by what he finds. What they’d done last night had been entirely impulsive on both their parts, and hardly a good idea, but apparently Skraak doesn’t regret it. In fact, he feels _good_ , the sort of happy satiety that comes from excellent sex after going too long without it.

Reassured, he settles back down. It’s early in the morning still, according to that steady time-sense ticking away inside him, and there’s nothing that needs doing. As far as any of them can tell, they’re safe in the strange-familiar underground maze of Svalbard. His clanmates will be curled up in some hidden corner, safe and dreaming together. The others, the ones he’s begun to think of as his crewmates, will be resting in their own little caves.

There’s nothing he has to do, right now. Unusual, and nice.

Skraak deepens their breathing, relaxes every muscle, determined to make the most of the rest. The sheer quantity of heat emanating from Hamid lulls them into a gentle doze, slipping down into quiet peace.

Movement at their side rouses them after a relaxed half hour of drifting, and Skraak slits their eyes open to find Hamid blinking, muzzy and blind, in the gloom. His face is still slack with sleep, movements slow as he stretches, and they bite down hard on the smile tugging at the corner of their mouth.

They don’t stop themself from reaching out, brushing one of Hamid’s unruly curls out of his face. Hamid moves into the touch, tipping his head to the side and laying his hot cheek against their scales.

“What time is it?” he murmurs.

“Early,” Skraak tells him, letting their claws catch and play in the light fabric covering Hamid’s skin. “Too early to get up.”

Hamid’s ribcage is so strangely unprotected, just a thin layer of flesh over such an important structure. When he huffs a laugh, Skraak can even feel the bones moving against their paw. “Was that a hint?”

Skraak tightens their grip slightly, but Hamid doesn’t seem inclined to move out of their grasp. Satisfied, they hug the halfling closer against themself, bringing their tail up to wind around one soft, warm thigh and pin him even closer. Hamid laughs again and goes obligingly limp, letting himself be dragged in. He even turns in Skraak’s arms until they’re face to face, throwing an arm around them that sears pleasantly into their back.

Halfling eyes can’t see in such low light, giving them privacy to study Hamid’s face. He looks half-asleep still, a little smile pulling at his strange, soft lips. Lots of nerves in those lips, Skraak had discovered last night. They’d always been fairly bemused by the way other species like to press their mouths together, but they think they understand better now.

The _noise_ the halfling had made, when they’d slid a claw across that plush skin. The furnace heat of his breath on their finger, the molten shock when they’d slipped it inside to caress that constantly moving tongue.

That memory catches in Skraak’s chest, and they can feel themself warming up. Not waking fully, not yet, they still feel wonderfully drowsy, but they can feel their heart rate picking up, their cocks just starting to fill, pressing gently against their vent.

A slow lift of Hamid’s eyebrow tells them that he can feel it against his thigh, and the hand on their back skims lower, a firebrand drawing down their side and over their hip. Skraak keeps still, not wanting to break the delicate threads tying them together, even as Hamid’s hand strays between their legs, brushing against the beginnings of their arousal.

“Hello,” Hamid murmurs, and the absurdity of it makes them snort. Hamid ducks his head and grins, skipping his finger between the sensitive glanses, and Skraak’s hips spasm up into the touch, entirely without his permission. They huff at Hamid’s smirk, rolling their hips into his palm deliberately, and sighing as their cocks begin to push out, that sweet friction and release of building pressure.

Hamid’s palm is so hot, so soft, and Skraak sighs again as he curls his hand around one and strokes gently up and down it, more of a tease than anything else. There’s a look in his eyes like he knows it too, a bright little gleam and Skraak wonders if he realises they can see him.

A grin pulling at the corners of their mouth, they lunge forward in one fast, controlled motion, rolling Hamid underneath them and pinning him down. The halfling squeaks sharply, and Skraak can’t keep themself from pressing closer, licking the noise out of his mouth to see how it tastes. Mostly of Hamid, it turns out, but at least now they know.

They feel oddly light, a churr rising in their throat and their tail-tip switching against the back of his knee until he’s giggling and squirming. So sensitive, all of that naked skin. Hamid’s scales are delicate little things, grouped in little clusters and barely covering anything. It’s difficult to reconcile the power Skraak knows this being holds with how _soft_ he is.

Another stroke of their tail, and Hamid bucks his hips up, grinding into their thigh, face twisting as he finds the right angle. Skraak grinds down with him, fully erect now, letting the urgency build within them, until Hamid is shoving off his trousers and pulling them close, pulling them in.

Hamid is already ridiculously wet, and when Skraak pushes against him they just slide in, right to the hilt. The sudden sweet shock of it, heat and clenching pressure, pushes a growl through their teeth, and Hamid moans, shamelessly loud in the quiet. They roll their hips slowly, and Hamid moves with them until they find a lazy, steady rhythm, rocking together easily as they let the pleasure build.

 _Easy_. How is this so easy, when nothing else has ever been easy between they and Hamid?

Their second cock rubs along the hot cleft of Hamid’s hip, and the vivid sense memory of having both inside the halfling last night hits them in the gut. They can’t imagine doing it again now – it had been overwhelmingly intense, almost painfully so – but they could. Hamid would let them. Hamid _has_ let them, opened his body up to them and allowed them to gorge themself.

“Skraak,” Hamid groans, and his pronunciation is _perfect_ these days, and Skraak rolls their hips into the melting core of him, their dragon. The warmth makes their head spin, the pleasure suffusing them and making them lazy and slow, making them move like they’re liquid and not flesh. Hamid clutches on and lines up his hips until the cock that isn’t hilted in him rubs gently against his single, hard nub of a cock. Skraak remembers how sensitive the tiny thing is, how even the lightest pressure made Hamid squirm, and they line up to rut against it as they thrust.

Their aim is good; Hamid tosses his head back and moans deep in his chest, the unprotected expanse of his neck bared. In the dim light, the bruises Skraak had left there last night are vividly dark, and they can’t resist bending to add some more, to set their teeth against his softness and taste the strange salty liquid that wells from his skin as he exerts himself.

On impulse, they twist their neck and take Hamid’s entire throat between their jaws, holding it there with only the lightest pressure of teeth. They’re certain Hamid will have no idea what that means, to rest with another’s throat in your mouth. Maybe they’ll explain to him, later; they think it’s possibly the best equivalent they know to what he would call a _kiss_.

Hamid goes perfectly still for a moment, not even breathing. Then he _wails_ , high and broken, and clenches down almost painfully on Skraak’s cock, gushing wet around them as his hips jerk frantically upwards. Skraak rides him out, thrusting deep into the clutching heat of him, eyes fluttering closed over the fire building in their belly, the base joy of something so soft and vulnerable letting them hold his life in their jaws.

They go to pull away as Hamid’s aftershocks subside, but Hamid won’t let them; clutches them tight with his legs around their hips and his arms scorching over their shoulders. “Keep going,” he gasps in Draconic, before switching to a language they don’t recognise, words pouring suddenly from his mouth like water. Skraak can’t help but do so, pushing into the slick mess of where they’re joined again and again, pleasure building until it crashes into them and erases the world and all their cares with it.

Their breath comes back slowly, cushioned against Hamid’s warm throat, coming down in the quiet darkness. They’re going to let go, of course they are. Just in a minute.

Hamid lies relaxed beneath them, every muscle loose, no fear in his scent where it runs over their palate. Of course, Skraak knows very well that he could blast them into ash in a moment, he doesn’t really have anything to fear. Still, the fact of his trust, warm and tangible under their touch and held in their jaws, lodges deep in their bones.

They’ve come a long way, the two of them.

When Hamid starts to shift a little, Skraak releases his neck and pulls away. The halfling clicks his fingers and Skraak blinks to find the sticky mess between them vanished.

“Nice trick,” they say, and Hamid smiles brightly into the darkness, face soft and open with his afterglow.

“It has its uses.” He curls in on himself, urging Skraak to lie against him with gentle hands. “Is it still too early to get up, then?”

Skraak doesn’t even bother thinking about it. “Yes,” they say decisively, and burrow into Hamid’s warmth. They can rest now, they and their halfling. Anything else can wait.


End file.
